


Caring Has An Advantage

by UnleashedWriting



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Angst, BabySherlock, Happy, Kidlock, Other, Redbeard - Freeform, Sad, Sherlock - Freeform, SherlockandJohnfluff, Teenlock, angstsherlock, bbcsherlock - Freeform, brotherlyfluff, depressedsherlock, emotionalsherlock, fakesuicide, johnwatson - Freeform, piningSherlock, thefall, toddlersherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3952198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnleashedWriting/pseuds/UnleashedWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John brotherly fluff!<br/>Might make you sad.... I don't know! I was happy/sad when writing this!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caring Has An Advantage

William was only four when his lovely mother was diagnosed with breast cancer, and it was not until two days before his fifth birthday that the news of his mother’s passing came to be announced over the dinner table during family lunch with his Brother and Father.  
The child never had been good at eating, found it boring, useless, he did not enjoy eating unlike his big brother who seemed to scoff anything that was in reach.  
After that announcement fourteen year old Mycroft gained a whole five pounds in only a week, eating away his tears.

‘’Caring is not an advantage, William.’’ He had snapped as the teary boy snuck into his bedroom late that night, awkwardly struggling to wriggle himself under the heavy duvet covers, trying to snuggle into his brother's chest for some comfort for his little breaking heart. The boy simply looked up at the teenager, little lips quivering.  
‘’Mummy was an advantage though, Mymy.’’ He sniffed, truly believing that even his brother had it in his heart to be depressed over their mother’s passing. 

‘’Don’t be sentimental, William, one day you will understand, but right now you are far too stupid to understand.’’ Mycroft murmured and turned over, his heart ached but he would never, ever let anyone know that, not even himself if he could help it.  
‘’I am not stupid, Mymy!” The child whimpered and clumsily climbed up out of the bed, throwing a glare back at his brother and closed the door behind himself loud enough for the teenager to know he was in a sulk but not loud enough to upset and wake his father who needed as much sleep as he could get. 

 

 

Violet Holmes’s funeral was the most dreaded thing in the young boy’s life, being dragged up at early hours in the morning making him cranky and sleepy for the rest of the day. Being wrestled into a small little suit and tie he was taken by the hand, out into the rainy dull weather of England, the weather in many ways showed exactly what William let in his heart. Mixed in with hurt and loneliness and that seemed to be what made William Holmes. 

After the burial William sat curled up on the grass beside his mother’s grave, with Redbeard at his side, big fat salty tears running down his pale cheeks. Wet mud dirtying his nice new smart suit, but the child could really not find it in himself to care about such materialistic things as clothing right now. His wonderful sweet mother was gone, forever, never to hold him in her arms as they guessed every single answer right on the quiz shows on the television, no more cosy cups of tea and letting William dip his cookies into her cup before munching quickly before his biscuit crumbled down onto his lap. 

His mother was the light of his life, and he was certain that light was never coming back. He only had Redbeard now, and even he was always far too lazy to play pirates and run around the garden lately, Mycroft had threatened more than once to get rid of his best friend, annoyed about the dog hairs on his stupid expensive suits. 

The boy must have snoozed off against the gravestone, one hand stuck in the sticky mud and the other tangled up in the dog’s hair, suit absolutely covered and ruined by the brown mess. 

‘’William!” Mycroft shouted into his ear, grabbing him under the arms and pulling him up to his feet causing the child to wake up with a start, eyes wide and confused as to where he was and why he was not snuggled up in his warm little bed.  
“Look at you! A mess! A mess, William!’’ He was scolded, Mycroft desperately trying to pat away the dirt, only managing to smudge it more, ruining his clothes even more than they already were.  
“You are such…. such a child! Why can’t you just be normal, huh? You think Mother would want you out here weeping like a baby?! No, She would want you to make the name of Holmes proud, and yet here you are making a mockery of us!” 

Really that was the end of the child’s love for his brother, the light from his eyes disappeared and was placed with hatred, slapping away his hands from his shoulders. ‘’MY NAME IS SHERLOCK! Sherlock! I don’t want to be William, I don’t want to be in this family! I want… I want my mummy.’’ He cried loudly, wiggling away from his brother, shaking his head and sniffing as he saw the anger burning red in his older brothers face.  
‘’You are a nasty big fat meany!” Sherlock mumbled, staring up at the older Holmes before running off towards the wake party, still filthy and muddy, but Redbeard was at his toe and he was no longer going to be a weepy little baby. Maybe Mycroft had been right about one thing, Caring is most definitely not an advantage.

 

 

 

Life was hard as he grew up, adjusting to his talents of deductions, adjusting to being the freak of not just the school, but London.  
His father never left the house since his wife’s passing, staying in his library to continue with the studies of whatever he was studying, something terribly secret, Sherlock doubted he would ever find out what his parents really did or worked for. Really he could not find it in himself to even bother asking anymore, he just left everyone to do as they wished as he done exactly the same. 

As he grew and struggled through his drug addiction he often found himself thinking back to his mother, how different his life may be if she was still around with the light she spread around her youngest son.  
He would find himself praying at times, the great Sherlock Holmes reduced at the ages of thirty, praying for God to take away the loneliness and pain in his heart, to return his mother, or at least replace her with a new light in his life. 

 

 

A week later he met John Watson.  
And then, only a few years passed before he fell to keep that very same John Watson safe. 

 

 

A week after his fall he found himself standing at his mother’s grave, tears in his eyes while he kneeled and smiled softly, placing his leather covered hand on the top of her grave, sighing softly.  
“Sometimes I wish I had died long ago mother, I wished, so many times in my life that fate had taken me instead of you, you deserved so much more than I ever did. I felt that way for so long but then he stepped into my life… I had a friend mother.  
He liked me enough to stay with me, to kill for me, to put up with Mycroft even. I never thought I would ever understand a true friendship, but it’s too late now, I have died. Well, John think’s I am dead and I hope he will miss me, I would like to think that the day I do finally die someone will miss me.’’ He finally paused for breath and smiled softly, sitting down and curling up against the gravestone, closing his eyes, as he had so many years ago when this grave had still been fresh.  
“I always wished that I would have a best friend, when Redbeard died, I doubt you remember because you are just a pile of bones now aren't you? Anyway, When Redbeard died I knew that my best friend had died and I thought nobody would ever replace him, I think John Watson done exactly that… He was good enough to replace Redbeard. He might even think of be as his best friend… Unlikely, but… I like to think that. I makes the fact that nobody wants me alive… I probably am hardly important to anyone really. But It’s not like I am going to ever see him again.’’ He mumbled sleepily, and again, just as he had so many years ago by the name of William he fell asleep against his mother's gravestone. 

This time he was woken in a much more pleasurable way.  
He heard footsteps and quickly stood up, hiding behind the tree that stood just beside his and his mother's graves, the footsteps of a man with a limp could be heard.  
John.  
‘’You were the best man...’’ John stood before the new black marble grave, awkwardly glancing down to the name that was etched into the marble. “The most… Human, Human being, that I had ever known, and nobody could ever convince me that you told a lie. I was so alone… And I owe you so much, one more thing. One more miracle for me Sherlock, Don’t… Don’t be dead. Could you do that? Just for me? Just stop it. Just stop this… ‘’ The grown man fought back tears as he backed away from his best friends grave.  
And in that moment Sherlock knew that his life meant something, to someone.  
And he knew…  
He was going to see John again.  
He was going to live.  
One last miracle.


End file.
